She's A Marvel
by sandra70
Summary: Killian is nervous. To propose or not to propose, that is the question... maybe his best mate can provide advice.


"Thanks for your help, mate," Killian says and hands David a bottle of beer. To him, it's still odd that any other libation than rum and wine comes in a bottle – beer should be in barrels, really – but this is the 21st century, and besides, it has its perks. He kept those bottles in a bucket with cold water aboard his ship, and so they have an acceptable temperature.

David wipes the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and takes the offered bottle, eyeing his daughter's boyfriend with mild suspicion. "What was this really about?"

Killian scratches behind his ear. "Uh, what?" he frowns and fetches a bottle for himself. "I don't..."

"Oh, come on," David interrupts and plops the swing top of the bottle open. "Out with it, Hook. You've navigated this ship alone for quite some time, you could have done that bit of handiwork alone. You didn't really _need_ my help."

"Alright, alright, you got me." Killian opens his bottle, too, and tilts his head. "I was doing you a favor. With your little one teething I thought you could use a bit of–"

"Killian." Oddly enough, David is one of the people who still call him by his old moniker most of the time, even though he is – there's no use denying it – his best friend. Maybe _because_ he is. They are so comfortable with their friendship now that they can say almost everything to each other without it being offensive. They have developed that routine of friendly throwing around nicknames like _Hook, prince, mate, pirate_ that it actually stands out whenever David calls Killian by his first name. Mostly it's a sign of seriousness.

Killian sighs and knows that he can't delay the moment any longer, and anyway – David is right. There was a reason why he lured him on the _Jolly Roger_ on this hot summer afternoon under the pretext of "needing a hand" with some repair work. "You're quite the perceptive prince," he grumbles and puts down his bottle while David patiently waits, an amused grin on his face.

Killian reaches into the pocket of his jeans and fumbles a bit before he can pull out the item he's looking for – _serves you right,_ David thinks, _why do you always have to wear those extra tight pants, just to prove a point?_ But then he manages, and David is really curious now what it is that the pirate makes such a fuss about. A very small worn leather purse is dangling from the tip of Killian's hook, and with deft fingers he extracts a small object that he presents to David on his palm. Emma's father is only mildly surprised to see that it is a ring – a woman's ring, fine silver wrought into some sort of celtic braid, encircling a pale greenish opal that glitters in various shades of green and blue, according to the light.

"So, what do you think?" Killian asks a little nervously.

David clears his throat. "Well..." he sways his head from side to side, not being able to resist the occasion to tease his mate. "As much as you've grown on me against all odds, and as much as our relationship has developed, I'm afraid I have to decline."

Killian raises his eyebrows and stares at David, all dumbfounded, before he realizes that the prince has been pulling his leg. His mouth curves into an unusually embarrassed grin, and his mate slaps his shoulder hard. "So, you've finally pulled your wits together and decided to ask for my daughter's hand?"

Killian tilts his head. "With all due regard and just so we're clear..." – he looks a little apologetic – "you don't get a say in this. But," he motions to David appeasingly, "as Emma's father and perhaps also a..." – at this point he has to avert his eyes when he scratches behind his ear again – "...a _friend_ I'd love for you to approve. Besides, I consider it indeed..."

David waves him off. "Yeah yeah, I know, good form," he finishes Killian's sentence. This is how far they've come. "So, long story short, you're asking my permission without actually leaving me a choice, is that right?" He folds his arms and looks at Killian severely, his pale blue eyes sparkling with benevolent irony.

The pirate is clearly nervous now. "I..."

David chuckles and slaps his shoulder again. "Hook, I'm just kidding," he soothes, taking pity on his friend. "If you haven't noticed, I've given my totally unnecessary blessing to this a long time ago." Killian grins in embarrassment and looks down at the ring in his hand. "I admit," David continues, "if I'd had a say in it, at least at the beginning I wouldn't have picked you as a companion for my daughter." Killian sways his head to the side, not surprised at David's words. Well, he can't even blame the prince, to be honest. But his next words make the tips of his ears turn slightly pink. "Luckily, Emma is much smarter than me."

Killian shuffles his feet a little uncomfortably – Killian Jones and compliments still don't go all too well together – and averts his eyes. Then he clears his throat and asks flat-out, "So, I assume we're having _the talk_ now?"

Emma's father snorts. "You mean the _you-break-her-heart-I-break-your-neck_ talk?" He shrugs. "I'd say we're already past that." He leans a little forward, searching Killian's gaze, pointing his index finger at him. "You told me once you'd go to the end of the world for her, or time," he reminds him. "And you proved that over and over again since then."

Killian's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do," David replies indignantly. "I know that most people think from Emma's parents Mary Margaret is the clever one." Killian grins, but refrains from giving his friend a sassy line. "And probably she is... but I'm not stupid either." David leans a little forward and motions his head to the ring in Killian's hand. "May I?" he asks, and when Killian nods once, he carefully picks up the ring. The artfully wrought silver looks ancient, and the green opal mysterious. It's not as bright as a diamond but captures the light just as fine; it reminds him of the very rare green flash at sunset he's only seen once in his life. "It's graceful and simple," he says. "Just beautiful." Killian smiles, obviously pleased with David's appraisal. Then, suddenly, the prince's eyes narrow suspiciously. "This had better not come from a buccaneering spree."

Killian isn't offended; it's obvious that this ring is old, and given his former occupation... well, it isn't that far-fetched a thought. Regardless, David couldn't be any more wrong. "It belonged to my mother," Killian reveals, and Emma's father looks at him in surprise. He knows that Killian lost his mother when he was a child, and that he has spent the good part of his younger years in servitude, so he obviously assumed that he had nothing left of his mother. But Liam has seen to that, and Killian has been carrying his mother's ring in the small leather purse in his pocket for longer than he can remember.

David nods quietly and gives the ring back. "The ring I gave Snow was my mother's, too," he remarks.

Killian grins. "I know. I helped you get it back, remember?" Carefully, he puts the ring back into its purse.

David snorts. "Yeah, after you'd had her steal it from me!"

"All for the greater good," Killian retorts smoothly and stuffs the little purse back into the pocket of his jeans. "So... what do you think, will she accept?"

"Oh, come on." David waves his hand dismissively. "You should know by now that Emma is irrevocably, irremediably in love with you." Killian raises his eyebrows at him, and David shrugs. "I can throw around big words, too. The thing is, she loves you. Truly, madly, deeply," he adds a bit reluctantly.

Killian nods with a pleased smile but combines it with a nervous ear scratch. "Aye, I'm not doubting that."

David frowns. "Then what's your problem?"

The pirate tilts his head. "Well, I'm asking myself..." he pauses for a second, as if he's scared to say the words out loud, but then he draws a deep breath and blurts out, "if she's actually ready." He plucks an imaginary lint from the tip of his hook. "I mean, I don't want to scare her..."

David nods slowly, understanding now what's worrying his friend. Given the extremely slow burn of their relationship, he isn't even surprised. But if he's sure about one thing, then that his daughter won't even hesitate for the blink of an eye before accepting a proposal of the man she went to hell for. "I wouldn't worry," he says and smiles to himself when he sees Killian's worry partly dissolve into relief. "I mean," he adds with a shrug, "of course, she's a woman and she's her mother's daughter, so doing something unpredictable is not completely out of the question, but..." He slaps Killian's shoulder again. "No, I wouldn't worry."

A broad grin splits Killian's face.

Later, when he gets home he finds Emma still hasn't gotten home from work, and he's relieved about that – because there's another secret talk he wants to have. Quickly, he hurries up the stairs and knocks at the door to Henry's room.

"Yeah?" comes the immediate answer.

Killian opens the door and peeks inside carefully; the boy is alone at his desk, his brunette head bent over a book. _Good_. "Lad, can we talk for a moment?"

Henry looks up from his homework, always happy about a distraction. "Sure, what's up?"

Killian slips into the room and closes the door, even if they are alone in the house. "Well, it's a little delicate," he starts tentatively and clears his throat, "and it would have to stay strictly between us."

Henry's face lights up. "What did you do?"

This lad is definitely his suspicious mother's son. "Nothing!" Killian assures quickly. "Not yet, that is."

Henry's jaw drops, his homework completely forgotten now. "Ooooh... that's even better." His eyes sparkle with devilish glee. "You're _planning_ to do something, and mom isn't supposed to know."

Killian waves his hook vaguely. "Well, aye, but... she's going to find out. Later."

"Is it illegal?" The boy doesn't sound as if he'd mind.

"Of course not!" Killian contradicts in fierce indignation and lifts a reprimanding eyebrow. "Why would you even consider this?" When Henry tilts his head in a very hook-ish way, Killian raises his hand. "Alright, I see your point. Anyway, I can assure you, it's not in any way repugnant to the law."

Henry folds his arms and frowns in confusion. "Well, then, what is it?"

Killian shuffles his feet. "Look, you know that your mother and I are..." he pauses and waves his hand a little aimlessly before he goes on, "well, you know, together."

"Yeah, I know," Henry replies in an amused voice. "I live in this house, remember?"

"Aye," he replies almost absentmindedly and tilts his head. "Anyway, I thought, I would love to, I mean..." Stumbling over his own words, he falls silent, hastily rummaging around in his usually quick mind for a way to reveal the delicate news to Emma's lad.

"Shoot me!" Henry suddenly exclaims, his reaction startling Killian a little, and points his index finger at him like a sword. "You're planning to propose, aren't you? That's it!"

The lad's voice is excited, and Killian feels relief settle in. He knows that Emma's son likes him, that he considers him already family. That he approves of him and his mother being a couple, that living under the same roof, as a family, has become a natural thing for him. But still, _this_ – this is one big step further, and a part of Killian was a little anxious about Henry's reaction. But the excitement and joy in the boy's eyes leave no questions open about his attitude towards this. Killian averts his eyes for a moment and scratches behind his ear. "So, I take it you don't mind if..."

"Are you kidding me?" Henry interrupts. "I've been asking myself already when you'd _finally_ pop the question! And let me tell you I'm not the only one." When Killian raises a surprised eyebrow, the boy chuckles. "Everyone's waiting for it."

"Well, it's not that I didn't want to," Killian clarifies, "I just thought she might need a little more time, you know."

Henry nods. "Yeah. Can't blame you. But I believe in her." Of course he would say that. He grins. "She's ready." Leaning a little forward curiously, he wants to know, "So, when are you gonna do it?"

"Soon, lad, soon." Killian scratches behind his ear again. "But I'd like to ask you a favor first."

"What's that?" Henry asks eagerly.

Killian tilts his head. "You see, my closest friend besides Emma, of course, is probably your grandfather," he admits and, as he sees the boy's amused grin, adds dryly, "but don't tell Dave that I said that. Anyway... he's the father of the bride, so I can't ask him to."

Henry is clueless. "To what?"

"To be my best man."

"I see." The boy shakes his head slowly. "No, you can't," he confirms. "That's a problem." Briefly, a sad shadow flickers across his young face, and Killian knows he's thinking about Robin Hood, the man his other mother loved. He certainly would have been an excellent choice, too – a good man and a good mate.

"Would you consider to do me the honors?" Killian asks softly, and the boy's eyes grow wide and then light up again, the sadness fading to a faint melancholy.

"Me?" he asks incredulously. "You want _me_ to be your best man?"

"I couldn't imagine a more appropriate choice." Killian tilts head. "I hope it's not presumptuous to ask."

The obvious pleasure on Henry's face touches him deeply. "Sure," the lad answers, trying to keep a nonchalant expression. "I'll do it."

Killian beams. "Good. Then that's settled."

He has the approval of the two other important men in Emma's life. Now all he needs is her _yes_. That has him slightly nervous, but there's no point in procrastinating any longer, and so he starts to plan the perfect date.

Emma's had an exhausting day at the sheriff's station, and she's glad that she won't have to work the day after. For a moment she contemplates to call Killian and ask him for a rain check for the picnic date he planned for them on his ship, because honestly, all she wants (and has the energy for) right now is to go home, slump on their couch, prop up her feet in his lap and eat some takeaway meal directly from the box. But on the other hand, she doesn't want to disappoint him; when he told her earlier what he has planned – some sort of romantic picnic date under a starlit sky on that soft balmy summer evening – how could she have the heart to tell him she prefers to go home?

When she asked him what the occasion is, he answered vaguely that he just wants to celebrate them having a quiet moment for once, and why does he even need an occasion to plan a romantic evening with her? Emma knows something's up and that there's more to it than just that – she might be an open book for him, but she has her super powers – but she doesn't poke any further, decides just to take it easy and see what happens. After he even tells her that she doesn't need to dress up or anything, she's convinced. She trusts Killian that he, as usual, will exactly provide what she needs to relax and feel better. Whenever she's allowed him to take care of her in whatever way, she has never regretted it so far, and she's getting the hang of it.

When she parks her yellow bug at the mole, she can see soft light shining from the deck of the ship which means that Killian has obviously lighted the lanterns on deck. The gleam has already a soothing effect on her, and with a contented sigh she gets off the car and carefully steps on the gangplank that leads her aboard the gently swaying ship. Killian is already expecting her and offers her a dazzling smile and his hand to help her step on deck. The moment she stands safe on the wooden planks, he pulls her close and greets her with a lingering kiss. Another bit of tension falls from her shoulders, and she sighs against his lips.

"Tiring day, love?" he asks and rubs soothing circles on her back.

"Yeah," she replies, "I'm completely finished."

"You can relax now," he tells her and motions to an island of blankets and cushions he's built on the wooden floor. "Make yourself comfortable."

An hour later, she almost feels like reborn. Killian has offered a variety of a few dishes he knows she likes, her favorite red wine and apple pie, he encouraged her to rant about the unnerving, totally unnecessary emergency calls she received today while he massages her feet, and now her moving his fingertips in light circles over her scalp while her head is resting in his lap and she's complaining about that weird noise her beloved bug has started to make this very afternoon.

"Mhm," he hums a little absentmindedly and combs his fingers through her hair while she sighs and remarks that she needn't even bother to get upset, because if all else fails she can fix her car with magic. The more he can feel the tension rolling off of her, the more nervous he's getting, because the moment is approaching, the moment when he won't be able to put it off any longer. It's not like he doesn't want to do it, but there's still that tiny part of him that's afraid of her reaction, afraid to see _her_ get afraid. Dave's encouraged him, and so has her lad – but still. They have gone through a lot, more than any couple probably, and they came out stronger from every new ordeal, but the times when she kept pushing him away, when she had her armor up even with him, they are not so far in the past. His mother's ring has been burning a hole in his pocket all evening, and his fingers are fidgeting more than usual out of sheer nervousness. But Killian Jones has never been the one to shy away from a challenge nor to back off from a risky move. And he surely has never been unwilling to fight for what he wants. When he notices that Emma has fallen silent, he draws a deep breath.

A calmness has settled deep in her bones, and the tension and annoyance of the day are gone, just like that. Emma smiles to herself, knowing that it's not about the quiet evening, the comfortable picnic isle or the food, not about the wine or the apple pie. It's all that too, yes, it's the thoughtfulness, the feeling of being taken care of by someone so familiar that they know your weaknesses, soft spots, what will rile you up and what will calm you down. So comfortable and easy, so... _home_.

Shifting herself into a sitting position, she smiles at Killian and tells him, "You sure know how to show a girl a good time."

He just can't help but smirk while smoothing out her air with his hook, a familiar gesture and one of the first displays of tenderness he ever dared to show, even when they weren't together yet. "Aye, so I've been told," he replies in a low timbre.

Emma rolls eyes at him and slaps his chest with the back of her hand. Throwing him an annoyed glance, she revels in the sparkle of his eyes. His eyes are always a marvel to look at – to drown in – but she has the impression that tonight they're particularly beautiful, softly shining with tenderness and affection. The skin around them creases when he smiles, forming the crinkles she loves so much. It's all so comfortable and easy with him, she thinks again, and like being pulled by an invisible magnet, she leans in to kiss him.

He barely moves, letting her come all the way to him, and when their lips touch, she feels his hand in her hair, gently cupping the back of her head, like he loves to do. The kiss is slow and thorough, soft and sweet, unusual for them without teetering on the edge of passion. It's not making her head spin or boiling heat course through her veins – a comforting warmth settles deep in her belly instead. The ever-present butterflies are not making her stomach flip, they just flutter gently. Emma has learned that not every kiss has to be one for the ages, one that leads to entangled limbs and panting and racing heartbeats. Sometimes all she needs is a kiss that tastes like homemade pie, warm and comforting like a bubble bath and soft like her favorite pillow. Exactly what she needed today, and Killian lets her have it, he lets her take exactly what she needs, and it strikes her again how absurdly well he knows her. _Open book._ He always knows what she needs, and he always provides it.

She doesn't have to pretend with him. There are days when she feels like she can't make ends meet, like she isn't even capable of saving a wayward spider from the kitchen sink, let alone someone else's day. Then he encourages her, tells her she can do it, reminds her of all the villains she's defeated, of all the obstacles she's overcome, including her own walls and fears. Sometimes he even gives her what she doesn't know she needs, like telling her uncomfortable truths. When she just needs to unload the baggage of the day, like today, he listens and lets her talk, calming her nerves with a soothing touch here and there. Sometimes, when that's not enough, when she needs to get rid of too much adrenaline in her veins, pumping her into a foul mood, he lets her pick a fight, and because he knows she needs to dump her frustration and anger somewhere, he gives her contra. And later, when she corners him with her apology, he holds her like she needs to be held and makes love to her slowly and tenderly, whispering sweet words, but sometimes he's rough with her, hair pulling and manhandling and all, his voice commanding, dark and low, but it's always lovemaking.

It's not like it's a one-side track, though; she's there for him, too. He's learned to accept that there are people who care for him. So, she's the one to make his nightmares wane when they shake his sleep from time to time. When his mood gets broody and dark with memories of his past sins, she's the one to remind him that he was strong enough to become the man he's always wanted to be. And when he's caught in old habits like preparing to face every foul task and difficult time alone, she tells him that he's not alone anymore – he has her, he has friends now and a family.

Emma's eyes lock with his, and she sees the intensity of his feelings and the softness and depth lingering beneath the tease, the love beneath the desire, the seriousness beneath the flirting, and she thinks it can not possibly get any better than that. And spontaneously, she blurts out, "Marry me."

" _What?!_ " She caught him completely off guard, just when he was about to pull the ring out of his pocket. But then, this is his Swan, his tough lass, the bravest woman he knows, who will never ever cease to surprise, to amaze him. Why was he nervous again?

Of course, Emma takes his startled reaction for shock and is now startled herself – frightened by her own courage. "Uh... what?" She shrugs defensively and pulls back a little. "This is the 21st Century," she remarks indignantly. "A woman can ask a man if he wants to marry her." He's so overwhelmed that he just continues to stare at her with wide blue eyes, and now she gets a little nervous. "Say something?" When he doesn't react immediately, her nervousness increases, and starts to ramble mindlessly. "I mean, if you need time, it's fine." She licks her lips and combs her hair behind her ears with both hands. "You don't have to... it's not like... maybe it's not even your thing to..." She falls silent when the words remain stuck in her throat. _God_ , has she made a complete fool of herself?

Then he finally has pulled his wits together again. "Swan," he interrupts softly, the hint of a tender tease to his voice. He tilts his head and quirks an eyebrow. "Are you trying to make an honorable man out of me?"

And suddenly, she's calm. His voice and his eyes tell her everything she needs to know. A wave of relief and warmth rolls over her and engulfs her in happiness. "You _are_ an honorable man," she scolds with very little edge to her voice.

Killian snorts a little embarrassed laugh and averts his eyes for a second, he can't help it. "Alright, so," – he gestures vaguely with his hook – "where's the ring?"

"The ring?" she echoes in feigned annoyance. " _Really?_ "

He raises a mock-indignant eyebrow at her. "Are you saying you're proposing to me without a ring?" he drawls, feeling absolutely elated that they can tease each other so comfortably, that it's all so natural, and he's full of wonder about how far they've both come. It's a blessing how she's finally completely opened up to him, how much she _loves_ him and isn't afraid of it anymore, and that he doesn't feel unworthy of that anymore and can just bask in it. "Now I can tolerate you not going down on one knee, but no ring?" he tilts his head. "That's bad form, Swan."

Emma half snorts, half laughs. "Please," she huffs, "you don't even have a free finger."

"Ah, but..." he shifts a little, stuffing his hand into his pocket with some effort, and finishes triumphantly, "I have _this_." With three fingers, he holds up the wrought silver band and waits for her reaction.

She frowns as her eyes fall on the ring, the glitter in her irises he same as the golden reflections in the green opal. "What's... I– I don't understand?" Her mouth is dry all of a sudden.

Killian tilts his head in a shrug. "Well, it looks like you're the braver one again, Swan." She hikes up her eyes to his face again, a question in them. His show a genuine, affectionate smile bare of any mockery now. "You managed to do spontaneously what I had planned and rehearsed in my head over and over again and what made me nervous for days," he admits freely.

Emma's eyes widen when her swirling mind grasps the meaning of his words. "Wait, what?" She motions between the ring and them both. "Are you saying you were planning..."

He smiles, bare of any mockery. "It was only a matter of moments," he nods. "I was about to offer you this ring and the rest of my miserable existence."

Her fingers are flexing, wanting to reach for the ring he's still holding up but not yet daring it. Instead, she threads them through her hair again."Killian... it's gorgeous," she murmurs.

"It belonged to my mother," he replies quietly and watches her blink rapidly, before her beautiful mouth curves into a loving smile. If she's surprised that he has something left of his mother, she doesn't show it.

She's speechless only for a moment. "And you want me to wear it?" she asks softly.

"Aye." He smooths out her hair with his hook. "I want you to wear it with a white dress or a leather jacket, whatever you like, when I marry you on this very deck. Under the stars."

The admission that he already has envisioned it all in his mind touches her deeply. Her eyes twinkle with fond amusement. "Ah, and what..." she runs her fingers from the tip to the base of his hook. "What are you going to wear?"

"Something appropriate for the occasion," he tells her and winks. "I've already placed an order with the local tailor."

"You have it all planned, haven't you?" she playfully pokes her index finger into his chest. "Just how could you be so sure I would say yes?" She raises her chin and folds her arms. "Who do you think you are, God's gift to women or something?"

Killian tilts his head. "To be precise, _a_ God's gift to _a_ woman," he replies smoothly, "but yes, technically that's what I am." She can't help but snort a laugh. He grins in response, full of mischief and tenderness. "Alas, since you beat me at the question, it's quite redundant to discuss my expectations." The softness of his voice betrays the emotions behind his teasing.

Emma rolls her eyes. "Alright, Captain Godsent, is that your pompous way of saying you'll marry me?"

"Aye, it is." He catches her wrist with his hook, and suddenly his expression is bare of any teasing, has gone completely serious now, and slips the ring on her finger. "I'm yours," he simply says, his voice low and rough with emotion. He looks up at her only to find her eyes resting on his face, a calm, content smile shining in them. "If you want me."

The fingers of her left hand curl around his, while her right hand reaches for his hook, taking a firm hold on it, as she replies loud and clear, "I do."

With Snow's help, it takes Killian only a few days to organize the wedding – even though his soon-to-be mother-in-law protests, he firmly insists that they don't want a big pompous fairytale thing (only after making sure, of course, that Emma doesn't secretly wish for such a huge event). Snow frowns in disapproval, but when he tells her that all they need are their loved ones, she melts and grumbles that she'll take care of everything.

To her mother's delight, Emma opts for a white dress, Regina helps with that, very similar to the one she wore at the ball back in Camelot. David nods in grumpy approval when he accompanies Killian to the last fitting for his new leather coat – a very elegant, slim-cut uniform coat, shorter than his old duster, but not less impressive, and Emma's father has to admit that his little girl surely picked the most handsome scoundrel he's ever laid eyes upon.

The Jolly Roger is as gorgeous and majestic as ever, and there are really only very few people there who will share these moments with them. Emma and her parents will be the last to arrive. Henry, proudly fulfilling his duty as Best Man, calms down a nervous groom and goes to check every few minutes for new arrivals while Killian paces back and forth in his cabin.

"Dr. Hopper is here!" he announces, and Killian's heart sinks a little. He knew that the former Jiminy Cricket was to perform the ceremony, and he was planning to talk to him before, but somehow he missed the occasion. Ever since he has turned his ship and his life around to bide farewell to the villain inside him forever, the nasty little episode of history between him and the short, red-headed man has never been addressed, but he needs to come clean before his former victim will bind him and his True Love in matrimony.

When Archie boards the ship a little clumsily, Killian leads him to a quiet corner. "Doctor, a word." The little man raises his eyebrows, his glance through his glasses firm and serious, but not unfriendly. Killian feels even worse about what he did to him on this very ship in what seemed another life. "Doctor, I..."

Archie raises his hands and cuts him off with a quiet authority. "You want to apologize," he states; it's not a question. "You don't have to. What happened here between us…" he pauses for a moment, and Killian averts his eyes for a moment, before Archie continues, "was a long time ago. You were a different man then. Most of us were."

Killian shakes his head once and looks him in the eyes again. "No, Doctor," he contradicts firmly, "I wasn't under a curse. That was me. I..."

"Fine," Archie cuts him off almost impatiently, and Killian can't help but admire his verve to do that, "so you were a vicious bastard, hellbent on revenge and ready to stomp over everyone in your way. Better?"

He licks his lips in a nervous gesture. "Closer to the truth, indeed."

Archie looks him up and down in a merciless scrutiny. "Well, is that still who you are, Captain?"

"I... no."

The shorter man nods. "Do you love Emma?"

Killian swallows, jaw clenching. "More than my life."

Archie shrugs. "That's all that matters for today. And the past is in the past." He takes his glasses off and rubs his nose where they've left red marks before he continues, "Look. If we can make our peace with the Queen – Mayor Mills, I mean – then we can surely apply the same to you. In fact, we have." Killian ponders for a moment over the question whom he could mean by _we_ , but Archie's next words clarify that: "Personally, I don't know one single citizen of Storybrooke who doesn't at least respect you for what you've done for this town over the years." Killian averts his eyes, the admission taking him by surprise. "Let me tell you, Captain," Archie continues, "of all the villains I have met in my life I've seen not one showing as much remorse and atoning for their misdeeds as you have." He nods encouragingly. "As far as I'm concerned, you have a clean slate."

Killian scratches behind his ear. "Thank you, Doctor."

"You can thank yourself, Captain," Archie replies. When they shake hands, Henry's running up to them excitedly.

"Killian! They're here!"

Archie smiles. "Then let the ceremony begin."

To see Emma like that takes his breath away, and with her flowing cream white dress and her flower crown it seems like a déjà-vû to him. He's never admitted it to anyone, not even to himself, but the moment in Camelot, when he saw Emma descend those stairs, he felt like a man on his wedding day waiting for his bride, and he's never forgotten that feeling. He always hoped – maybe even subconsciously – that one day it would become real. And today that day has come.

The shining of her eyes has something magical for him, and she has eyes only for his face, not paying any attention to his elegant attire, the new black leather coat that makes him look even more dashing. Their stares lock, and the rest of the world ceases to exist when David puts Emma's left hand into Killian's right, and the fingers of her right curl around his hook.

They barely hear Archie's words when he leads them through the ceremony, and their family and closest friends watch with touch. Snow has tears in her eyes as she sees the fearless, open love and devotion on her daughter's face as she hold her True Love's hand and hook. David's eyes are glittering suspiciously, too – he knows his baby girl _couldn't be in better hands_ than with his best friend, and he's happy for them both. Regina watches with a melancholic smile and teary eyes – she can't help but think of her own lost love, but she has learned to live with it even though it still hurts, and she can be glad for the happiness of their friends. It helps that Henry has wrapped a firm arm around her waist.

They all hold their breath as the couple speaks their wedding vows; Killian is the first to go.

He has to swallow a few times, though, before he's able to have his voice under control. "When you found me," he starts, "I pretended to be half dead. And truth be told, inside I was." Emma almost tears up at that admission; she knows what he says is true, but still, it hurts to think back to that time when they were both so forlorn. "But loving you," he goes on, "made me realize that you can come back even from the lowest, darkest place." She presses her lips together into an understanding smile; this is exactly what their love has done for both of them. "Loving you made me want to be a better man – for you, at first, but then you made me realize that I deserved to be a better man for myself." In the background, Archie nods as Killian finishes, "Loving you brought me back to life."

Snow wipes the tears from her face as David squeezes her shoulder when Emma begins, "I'm Emma Swan. I was an orphan, a thief, a bailbondsperson." Her words are plain and matter-of-factly, just like herself. "Then a mother, a daughter, a sheriff," she continues, "a friend." Regina looks at Henry and smiles, while Killian, as usual, quietly encourages Emma with his eyes. "The Savior, a sister, a leader," she resumes and draws a deep breath, squeezing Killian's hand with her fingers. "With you," she tells him, "I was always just Emma. That was enough." He brushes his thumb over her knuckles and gives her a barely perceptible nod. "I am enough." And now, Emma's voice trembles a little, because how could words ever express what she feels when she's with this man? What he means to her? "Thank you for never letting go, even when I wasn't ready to hold on." Briefly, she looks down at their joined hands, then firmly back into his face again, and the pure and unabashed love in her eyes is almost blinding him when she finishes, "Now I am."

Snow doesn't even try to hide her tears now, and Killian and Emma don't even hear the rest of the ceremony; they have only eyes for each other. The rest of the celebration goes by in a haze, a rush of happiness shared with their family and closest friends. There is no dancing as they are aboard the ship, and no extensive festivity, it's just a family getting together on a happy occasion. They share food and wine and happy tales, they share laughs and shed tears, mostly happy ones but also a few melancholic ones.

It's Snow who finally urges the guests with gentle pressure to leave the newlyweds alone so that they can set sails and take on a little honeymoon – just a little cruise along the coast of Maine which they are taking off for that same evening. They're not getting far though – after having reached open waters, they cast anchor and quietly watch the sun set.

Much later, there's only the moonbeams and the starlight falling through the porthole of the Captain's cabin, reflections from the waves dancing across the low wooden ceiling. The light is painting soft blue patterns on their skin, beads of sweat glittering like pearls, as they lay together on the small bed, limbs entangled, fingers entwined, moving in sync, whispering meaningless sweet nothings and confessions that mean so much.

After they come down from their first high that night – it has been reached slowly, leisurely – Killian runs his nose along Emma's, a tender smile glowing in his eyes as he speaks. "Mrs. Jones..." He's still hovering above her, resting between her thighs where he's found his home.

She presses her lips into a sated smile. "What, no _Swan_ anymore?" she teases.

He caresses her jaw with his thumb. "You'll always be my Swan to me," he tells her in a low voice and slightly tilts his head. "As for the last name... whatever you prefer is–"

"I was just kidding," she interrupts and raises her head to quickly brush her lips over his and shut him up. "I left Emma Swan behind," she continues and shrugs. "It was never my name to begin with. I just borrowed it." Her hands run up and down his sides on their own accord, and she smiles. "It was a good name, but now I have a good name that is truly mine."

He swallows hard and averts his eyes for a moment, hiding how touched he is. "Well, it's a good thing then I don't go by my other name anymore," he then replies lightly.

Emma chuckles. "That would make us... Captain and Mrs. Hook?" He snorts a little laugh in response, and suddenly she gets serious, even though she's still smiling. "You know what? I'd wear it just as proudly."

He doesn't know what to say, the meaning of her words only slowly trickling into her conscience, and once more he asks himself how he ever got lucky enough to find someone like her. His eyes, suspiciously glittering, speak for him when he can't. After a few seconds, when he has his voice under control again he tells her, "You're a marvel." There's disbelief in his voice.

She smiles up at him sweetly and wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. "No, I'm just Emma," she says and tenderly puts her hand to his scruffy cheek. "And I'm yours."

He lowers himself heavier on her again and brings his lips close to hers. "Aye, that you are," he murmurs before he kisses her and makes her his again and gives himself to her just the same.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ this is a belated birthday gift for my awesome muse and friend **_Silvia_ ** \- unfortunately, I had to write it without her contribution ;)


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